


shaped from shattered stars

by Brim



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Ambiguous Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), First Meetings, Gen, Gender-Neutral Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), I love hyemetano so much you have no idea, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-01-31 04:42:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21440404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brim/pseuds/Brim
Summary: A collection of one-shots. Fragmented stories with some being loosely connected. Mostly focused on Shadowbringers.
Relationships: Azem & Elidibus (Final Fantasy XIV), Azem & Emet-Selch & Hythlodaeus (Final Fantasy XIV), Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch & Hythlodaeus, Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch & Warrior of Light, Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light
Comments: 15
Kudos: 43





	1. fragment - one-sided emet/wol

**Author's Note:**

> when there is a story or scene I don't know where to put or how to develop properly, it'll go here. some are short, some are longer. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

“Ah, he’s awake…”

“Oh, good. How _nice_ of him to join us.”

Emet-Selch groggily opened his eyes. That damnable light was still too strong and the brightness was giving him a headache. He was napping in one of the hammocks and his body felt stiff and cold. Disoriented, he looked around to remember where he was – with the Scions and in the middle of them making plans to hunt down Lightwarden in the Qitana Ravel. He found the entire charade needless and _boring_. Their precious Weapon of Light-, _Darkness_, was going to make short work of the Lightwarden. The problem however lied not whether the Warrior could best his enemy, but whether he could bare to deal with the aftermath…

…And that was a conclusion that Emet-Selch very much looked forward to.

He strained his senses and scanned the room again. That soul’s pale, sickly glow was barely visible drowned by the merciless light. The Warrior was present and seated on the ground, with a map sprawled on his lap. Clearly, he was too invested in memorizing the map as opposed to anything else that was discussed in the room. When he heard the Ascian stir, the Warrior regarded him with a brief look before returning to his map.

Emet-Selch exhaled a breath of amusement and unceremoniously pushed himself up. None of the Scions questioned him whether he was leaving, nor was the Ascian going to indulge with an answer. Instead of wordlessly disappearing into the shadows, Emet-Selch lazily dragged himself over to the Warrior and with a huff knelt beside him.

The Warrior blinked and instinctively turned towards him again, but this time with a curious look in his eyes. Emet-Selch took advantage of the opportunity and grasped his face. The Warrior stiffened when he felt the gentle touch of soft gloves on his cheeks and the Ascian carefully pulled him closer.

Ryne gasped and Alisaie stood up on her feet. Alphinaud narrowed his eyes, cautious. Thancred reach out for his weapon, while Urianger and Y’shtola stopped talking.

“Let go of him!”

“…” Emet-Selch, too focused in his observation, ignored them. Despite its bleakness and despite the light corruption it was…undeniably that person’s soul. Thousands and thousands of years passed and yet a hue that distinct was hard to forget. 

“Nevermind me.” Emet-Selch closed his eyes and sighed. No matter how much he looked and checked, he wasn’t going to see something else. Not yet at least.

He willed away the dim and released his grasp of the hero. The Warrior leaned back, curiosity turning to confusion, one which Emet-Selch didn’t _feel_ like bothering to alleviate. Let that fragment wander and wander until its doom.

Whether by the Light or by his own hands these weak, fragmented, _pitiful_ beings were just delaying the inevitable.


	2. thinker - hythlo, hades, 14th!wol; first encounters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gender-neutral amaurotine!warrior of light as the 14th member of the convocation

Before Hades accepted the name and duties of Emet-Selch, he was just a man. A talented man who was very efficient at his job, but otherwise just an ordinary citizen of Amaurot.

That was until he met inspiration…

…

The sound of hasty steps echoed in the tall hallways of the Bureau of the Architect.

“Indulge me. How did you come to know a member of the Convocation?” Hades voice came out between rushed breaths. He was too used to the quiet monotony of his work so physical exertion such as this took more out of him than he imagined.

“Not long ago there was an accident they helped me with.” There was an ever-present smile on Hythlodaeus’ face.

“An accident that beckons seeking out a Convocation member?” Underneath his mask, Hades furrowed his brows. He wasn’t aware of anything out of order in recent times, nor did anyone inform him of any emergencies.

“Nothing to worry about. It was just a matter that required a more, ah …careful touch.” His friends grin turned sheepish. In contrast, the frown on Hades’ face deepened.

“Pray tell me, dear friend, is my touch not gentle enough?”

“No, no such implication! I’ve just decided that it was a matter not worth troubling you.” Hythlodaeus laughed was drowned by his loud footstep as he rushed ahead in hurry to their destination or to put more distance between the two. With a sigh, Hades decided to drop the matter. He knew that Hythlodaeus could be stubbornly evasive.

“So, who has graced us with their time?” He asked instead after matching his friend’s pace. He wouldn’t admit it to him, but Hades was mildly curious who was going to spare time for aid instead of sending someone else.

“Why none other than…”

…

The newly appointed member of the Convocation of Fourteen was largely unremarkable in appearance – they didn’t exude the same awe a figure like Lahabrea or Nabriales did, nor did they evoke the silent authority that someone like Elidibus did. In fact, Hades scarcely ever noticed their presence during public manifests or formal celebrations.

Regardless of the way they carried themselves however, they were still a member of the Convocation of Fourteen, a position which meant that they were qualified to take care of matters and affairs of utmost urgency. And more importantly, they were also someone Hythlodaeus trusted - to the point of finding them more reliable than Hades himself even.

“This, my dear Hades, is an esteemed aide from the Convocation of Fourteen.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you. Any friend of Hythlodaeus’ is a friend of mine.”

“Likewise.”

They offered a hand and Hades hesitated for a moment before giving it a firm handshake. It was a rigid, overly formal act of politeness, but Hades didn’t expect anything less from a member of the Convocation.

However, the touch lingered on to the point that it passed what was considered courteous.

“You also have the gift of sight?” Eventually the Fourteenth released him and Hades retreated his hand. 

“Yes.” He hastily confirmed. Whatever awkwardness he felt was quickly dispelled by their quick deduction. Perhaps sensing his momentary fluster, Hythlodaeus’ grin widened and Hades glared at him through the mask, before waving his hand dismissively. “Although my vision is not as strong as Hythlodaeus’.”

“This isn’t a competition, my friend.” Hythlodaeus’ laugh was light enough as to not be mistaken for pity or smug downplay. His words were sometimes times a blunder, but they were always in earnest. His honesty was one of the many traits that Hades appreciated from his friend. 

“Indeed, it is me that is surrounded by gifted individuals.” There was a calm smile under the red mask. “I wish I could see as well…Unfortunately Hythlodaeus’ descriptions were never enough.”

Hythlodeus shrugged, smile not leaving his face.

“Don’t despair just yet about that.” Hades folded his arms. “More importantly, we should focus on the problem that demands our attention.”

“Straightforward.” They mumbled and Hades lips quirked into a frown. “Very well then, let us take care of matters then.”

…

“Ahaha! It seems I’ve severely overestimated the job and underestimated you, my friend.” Hythlodaeus commented when the entire ordeal was over. The task was handled predictably without any problem. _As expected of the Convocation_, thought Hades.

Their way back was mostly peaceful with Hythlodaeus attempting to start idle conversation between the three of them. In the course of which, Hades quickly realized that Hythlodaeus didn’t simply _know_ the Fourteenth, but that they were in fact _friends_.

…Unfortunately for him, Hades realized too late that he had been staring at them and now they were looking back at him with a curious smile.

“Is something troubling you, friend?” And Hades found that although they were quiet, they were also extremely _direct_. Not one to read subtleties.

“Nothing relevant of note.” He answered in a flat tone. It was an incorrect question – he was not one to lie and whatever bothered him about the Fourteenth was something he deemed not relevant enough to voice. 

“But?” Yet their probing continued and Hades decided to indulge their directness by being _straightforward_ as well.

“Simply put, I fail to grasp why someone with so many responsibilities such as yourself would offer to take care of something so mundane.” Although their work was serious enough to require caution, the issue Hythlodaeus required aid with was about as mundane as he could expect from _Hythlodaeus._ Hades honestly felt pity for wasting a Convocation member’s time.

“I don’t mind. Not everything is a race.”

_This isn’t a competition, my friend._

“And Hythlodaeus may often times takes advantage of my goodwill…” The Fourteenth paused, glimpsing at the guilty party, to which Hythlodaeus looked away in an attempt to feign innocence. “Idleness bothers me. If someone requires aid, then I will offer my powers.”

“So do you think of us as helpless?” Hades asked them bluntly again.

“Are we starting a debate? Shall I reserve a private room at the Hall of Rhetoric?” Although he asked in jest, Hythlodaeus’ careful words were an attempt to deescalate the sudden tension in the air. Bitter experience taught him how stubborn not just himself, the Fourteenth, but also _Hades_ was.

“With our power of Creation, there is very little out of our reach.” Hades ignored his friend’s proposal and continued. “And with our might and adamant souls, it is our duty and obligation to be stewards of the star, yes, but we shouldn’t be reckless in our pursuit for the greater good. _Short-sightless_ won’t help us when it comes to facing a serious crisis.”

It wasn’t just reckless, but also _impractical._

“I would not wish to test that...” The Fourteenth put a hand under their chin in thought. “Regardless, while I also believe that we should practice caution, this caution should not be exercised at the expense of others.”

“No doubt spoken like a true member of the Convocation of Fourteen.” Hades’ tone was quiet and he sighed.

“Also a sentiment I’m certain that someone like _you_ can understand.” The Fourteenth jabbed back.

Hades blinked. A laugh rumbled in his chest and he couldn’t contain it. Perhaps it was a bittersweet laugh. _Of all the things they could deduce that easily…_

“I think now I understand where my Hythlodaeus is influenced from.”

The Fourteenths shoulder slumped in guilt and their mouth partially opened to object or try to defend themselves, but once Hythlodaeus joined the laughter, they relaxed and chuckled as well.

“Mayhap so. I have been called out by my colleagues for being a bit of a troublemaker…” Their words trailed off and their gaze lowered to the ground.

“Ah, Convocation gossip!”

“Hythlodaeus!” Hades lightly chastised him once he calmed down. “We needn’t put off our _esteemed friend_ with talks of yellow press.”

“Gossip would be preferable to the bureaucratic discourse present during meeting.”

“No doubt it’s better than listening to your superiors’ mummery.”

The three of them laughed again and chatted a little while longer until they eventually departed with wishes for a peaceful evening. Their paths crossed many times more until a strong bond formed between the three.

A bond nurtured by the calm afternoons spend together lazily napping under a tree somewhere in Amaurot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t really dwell on the accident because it could be generic enough and I wanted to leave it up to the readers imagination. hades was impressed not because of their actions but because of their words (which is kind of contrasting what most people perceive of the 14th unless youre Llhabrea, because jiisan is kind of insane with both words and actions)
> 
> ...u can kinda see how hythlo and hades have the whole "the convocation is invincible" thing going on...
> 
> also I recalled how emet called out the wol for being short-sighted and then this talk here and the whole thing about how the 14th is impressed with hychan and hadeskun's "sight"...(which gets even funnier considering zodiarks tempering and its effect
> 
> heho


	3. null moon - elidibus and gender-neutral 14th!wol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elidibus and the Fourteenth talk after a turbulent Convocation meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gender-neutral amaurotine!wol, former member of the convocation of fourteen, takes place right after they resign and before the calamity hits amaurot

It was another deceptively calm evening in Amaurot. The streets were empty - just a few oddballs lazily walking around and about, while the other citizens had long retired to their homes. Most towers were dim, their tall spires hang dark.

All was quiet except for the Capitol - after a long and turbulent Convocation meeting, the Fourteenth was in their office, hastily clearing out their workspace. Discussion about the coming disaster and how to prevent it devolved into an argument once proposals of harnessing the power of Creation in order to create the will of the planet itself and heal their ailing star. But in order for this ambitious project to come to competition, it required immense resources and that’s when the problem arose – the only viable way to acquire said resources was a sacrifice. A sacrifice of souls.

Naturally, the Fourteenth was against it. Others were as well, but as the debate continued, more and more Convocation members who saw otherwise were convinced to agree with the proposal, until only they were the only ones futilely arguing against. As agitation and frustration grew, things got even messier and before any further escalation, the Fourteenth handed in their resignation and promptly stormed out of the meeting hall.

Now, they were in their office, former soon, and gathering what little things remained there. Their eyes hastily scanned piles and piles of documents that seemed very irrelevant in light of the recent crisis. However, organizing calmed their nerves and it would be rude to leave a messy workspace for their successor, if there even was one.

The lonesome stillness in the room was interrupted when they sensed a second presence in the room. Although, they were with their back against entrance, turning their head slightly, they could see a familiar white-robe in the peripheral of their vision. Elidibus was silently watching them from the entrance’s front and the Fourteenth wasn’t certain about how much time passed with him standing there.

They would be lying if they said that they didn’t expect him, of all people, to try to pacify and convince them to come back.

“Oh, Elidibus.” Their head nodded slowly in acknowledgement towards their colleague, but they didn’t turn to properly greet their uninvited guest. “It is customary for people to announce their presence when they enter.”

Elidibus didn’t apologize for his crudeness and remained close to the doorway. 

“You plan to leave Amaurot?” _To leave us_. The Fourteenth’s hand momentarily stilled – last remnants of their hesitation, but remembering how the meeting went and the following _argument_, their heart once again steeled in determination.

“Came to play your role as emissary?” They jabbed back instead. “I was quite clear in my closing statement and resignation.”

Elidibus put a hand under his chin in thought before answering. The emissary rarely took part in arguments, preferring the position of a neutral side or a mediator, because it gave him the opportunity to better understand each side in order to justly form his own stance on the manner. Truth was more important than bruised egos.

“I recognize that it’s futile to convince you of otherwise.”

“But?”

“There are no ulterior motives. I only wish to know the reasoning behind your decision.”

“I was clear, was I not?” They shrugged dismissively. “I can’t approve of a plan that sacrifices so many.” The Convocation’s callousness wasted many lives and their recklessness was going to cost many more. The Fourteenth couldn’t approve of their solution, when there was still the_ possibility_ to avert this disaster.

“You know this is the best course of action.” Elidibus started. He spoke calmly and cautiously with his words. “None of us have an alternative.”

“Yes and my failure to find a better solution is reasoning enough for me to conclude I can’t fulfil my obligation, therefore I should resign from my position as a member of the Convocation of Fourteen.” Their tone was flat and dispassionate, as if reading a line from a script.

Elidibus frowned at the implication of their words.

“I disagree.”

“This wasn’t a debate, right?” The Fourteenth huffed amused and Elidibus said nothing in retort. “I failed. We all did. And unlike those who choose to hide behind their silence, I’ve decided to let my actions speak.”

It was another thinly veiled accusation. A few moments of stillness passed and although, a small, petty part of them wanted an answer from the emissary, they knew better than to expect one.

“Then, allow me to ask you this, what message do you think your departure leaves?” Elidibus eventually said and behind their mask, the Fourteenth furrowed their brows in confusion.

“That I do not approve of the Convocation treating Amaurot and its citizens as expandable resources. It’s reckless and irresponsible.” Their tone turned harsh. The frustration was clear and although it wasn’t directed at Elidibus specifically, he was the only one present to bear witness to it.

“So you deem it better to see Amaurot perish when the calamity strikes and we’ve not taken action to stop it?” In contrast, the emissary’s customary serene demeanor cut straight through his peer’s dissonance. “Indolence and infighting will be our doom.” Elidibus spoke as a manner of fact.

They opened their mouth to retort, but no words came out. It felt like there was a lump their throat, bitter and chocking. The guilt piled over time as more reports and ill news came from overseas and the topic of the calamity went from dismissible rumors to a harsh reality. One in which there were many victims and many more will suffer if the Convocation didn’t do anything about it. But the Convocation had a horrifying solution to a terrifying situation.

“This is regrettable.” Elidibus said eventually, stealing the opportunity for them to answer. The emissary slowly shook his head in disappointment.

_I expected better from you. _

The Fourteenth bit their lower lip. It was unpleasant – an unpleasant situation in which desperation drove their peers. As much as they argued against and claimed there was _another way_, deep down they knew that there was no other option, but to commit this appalling act. For once, they were robbed of hope.

So perhaps, there was shame and cowardice mixed in their reasoning to resign. 

“Elidibus, I am not here to argue with you or _anyone else_.” They finally replied defensively. Their tone sounded tired and their shoulders slumped.

“Very well then, I will leave you be.” Elidibus answered, knowing full-well that it was indeed pointless to continue _arguing_ with them. “The procedure for your resignation will conclude soon. I bid you farewell. May we meet again …as friends.” And with that he turned to leave.

_Me too_, they wanted to say, but it went unsaid. The door closed and the emissary was gone, leaving the Fourteenth by themselves and their thoughts. They exhaled and turned towards the now empty doorway, leaning their lower back against the desk in thought.

_Was there a different way? Was this the right choice? _In the silence of their office, the Fourteenth pondered again.

Their gaze turned towards the large windows and the majestic view their office offered, but as much as they looked and looked, the quiet streets and the dark spires didn’t offer their usual solace to their mind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the idea of the 14th and elidibus talking right after the 14th resigned and eli using the ...uh, the usual legal manner of speech to argue and convince them to come back, y'know, gentle persuasion 
> 
> and after listening to the cleric beast theme on loop for ghost knows how long this is the end result, although laurence's theme is a banger too
> 
> also Im not entirely sure if fourteenth is an entirely viable way to refer to them but uh, here we go


	4. solaris - solus and nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solus zos Galvus often had nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> small cameo of solus' wife, the empress but dunno if should tag...

Over the years sleep became his solace. It felt familiar, a comfort Emet-Selch often indulged himself with. Lahabrea would scoff, calling him _lazy _for the way he spent his free time over the thousands of years they’ve been on their mission, and Emet-Selch had grown accustomed to filtering out the old man’s words when needed.

_“If you feel so passionate about this then perhaps we may discuss this at—“ _

_“The Hall of Rhetoric doesn’t exist anymore.” The dry interrupt__i__on_ _ seemed to have robbed Lahabrea of the opportunity to form a reply and for once the scholar was left speechless. A satisfied smirk settled on Emet-Selch’s lips at the apparent victory._

_ Elidibus sighed. _

Despite their disagreements, however, it never evolved into a _real_ argument, because they always managed to _overlook each other’s differences for the sake of Amaurot_, as Elidibus often reminded them of the customary principle of Amaurotine cooperation.

Indeed, many, many years passed, but mention of Amaurot was an easy way to get Emet-Selch to focus. The city‘s image was still fresh on his mind, as if imprinted by a higher force, and he was certain that this wasn't Zodiark‘s doing either. It remained in his dreams and memories, where details were the clearest and the more he indulged in them, the more he found himself unable to abandon it – the hope, the wish. _For things to return as they were._

But with those, also came the doubts and with them the despair – the nightmares. It felt like a pressure starting from his temples and going down his spine, where it froze his feet and he felt unable to continue, unable to move forward and _carry on_.

Nightmares of failure? Regret? He could never say for certain which of those irrational things that sprouted from his heart and plagued his mind would appear and it wasn't more than once that he woke up with a start and his feeble body shaking from the aftermath. On nights like those, as his inner world was warped more and more and only the echo of Zodiark‘s presence, brought from distant time and space, managed to halt his world from completely spiraling into ruin and absurdities.

_As he once did, he shall do so again and again. _

And again, a sobering voice resonated through his entire being, telling him to wake up.

And he did.

His eyes opened to the familiar darkness of his imperial shared chambers. The air in the room was stuffy. There was a foul taste in his mouth and his head felt like it was about to split open, spilling out all its content like a waterfall. He grunted, and tried to sit up.

His wife—this body’s wife was asleep beside him. Once he stirred, she scooted closer for warmth. By the time he arose, she was half-awake.

“Another nightmare, Your Radiance?” Her voice was heavy with sleep. She sometimes tried to tuck him in and sooth whatever stress he had whenever he awoke with misty eyes, as if trying to help calm down a wild beast or a particularly problematic child, always unknowing and _unhelping_ of what really bothers him. If anything her futile attempts just _aggravated_ Emet-Selch’s frustration even more.

_I don’t need your pity, woman. _He rolled his eyes and turned to slide off the bed.

“Solus.” She called again for his attention.

“I have work to finish.” Despite himself, his tone was harsh and cold, but the nuance was lost on his drowsy wife.

“As you wish, Your Radiance…” She sighed, knowing well enough to not press matters with him. After a gracefully stifled yawn, she promptly turned to her side and soundly fell asleep. Emet-Selch hastily went to put on a white shirt and draped a robe over himself like a cape to fend against Garlemald’s nightly chill.

_Solus._ It was not often that his wife, or anyone for that matter, referred to him by this fake name. _Solus Galvus_ was born to a distinguished family of pureblooded Garleans in a struggling republic at the time. It was an identity crafted by his design, just like this entire empire.

He careful snuck out of his room, least he caused himself another headache by alerting the guards. Although his earlier words were an excuse, they weren't a lie – the empire’s conflicts were childish, but they offered a good enough distraction to keep his mind busy. Therefore, it wasn’t entirely uncommon for him to work late into the night, or even omit sleep all together and work until sunrise. It was a habit he shared with his good, old friend—that person. They said that work helped them relax from their inner demons, contrary to Hythlodeus‘ often requests for a break.

Emet-Selch couldn‘t help but smiled to himself at the pleasant memory of the three of them working until the wee hours of the night on some pet project. His pleased demeanor, a growing rarity as he grew older, went unnoticed by the guards. The night patrol stood completely still, almost like statues as he passed by them. A few steps further and he was walking along the vast labyrinth of long, windowless hallways leading towards his office.

He sighed, suddenly feeling a shiver, despite the fact that the temperature inside the palace _should_ be regulated to a comfortable level even during the night.

The air was still. Emet-Selch stopped in his stride and squinted. He tried to focus his gaze and his senses on the distant blur of color.

Down the long hallway, there was a tall, hooded figure moved, almost wobbling, perhaps towards his office. The presence walked slowly, carefully, as if trying to go unnoticed. Emet-Selch blinked in his disbelief, all of a sudden entirely too lucid for this to be another walking dream. He felt a pressure in his chest and took a hesitant step forward.

_You. _His mouth opened wordlessly. The figure suddenly stilled and its head turned towards him in equally mutated wonder.

Emet-Selch grit his teeth.

“You!” He raised his voice, almost yelling at them.

The shade broke into a run, displaying sudden dexterity unfitting its earlier wobbling movement. Emet-Selch immediately stomped after them. If any of his enemies were to see _Solus zos Galvus, Emperor of Garlemald_, disgracefully running through the hallways of the royal palace, chasing a tall humanoid, they would consider the man completely mad and lock him up, thus achieving whatever political victory they aimed for.

Thankfully, although he’s gotten himself out of worse, this time he didn’t have to resort to using magic again. The night was calm, the guards were few and they often omitted the Emperor’s more questionable habits and deeds. Loyalty was hard to earn, but it was a worthwhile reward.

“Wait, damn you!”

The game of tag continued for a little while longer until Emet-Selch tricked them to run into a hallway he knew had a dead end. The figure stopped and looked around, halfway between confused and frightful. They were caught.

“ “ Emet-Selch called their name and the shade turned to face him, before promptly disappearing.

He stopped, petrified and eyes wide. The Ascian called their name again, but nothing happened and no one appeared. They were gone and so was his world.

Emet-Selch muttered a curse in that familiar, lost language and felt genuine _fury_ bloom in his heart. He’d know it was a fake, an impossibility made real by his delusional mind, but even he, a member of _the Convocation_, childishly embraced the illusion. And worst of all, he’d made a complete clown of himself with this foolish weakness.

Agitation. Disgust. He got angry – angry at himself and that anger sometimes spilled and tattered those sacred, pleasant memories and twisted his feelings into bitter resentment. He wanted a resolution, been aching for one for thousands of years, but the person he wanted it from was long gone and he doubted he was ever going to receive it from a mere shade.

_Zodiark can fix this. _

Emet-Selch sighed again, deflating under the pressure and quickly picked himself up again. He backtracked to his office, went inside and sat by his desk. He then lost himself to his work, focusing on some irrelevant battle strategies until late noon. He ate, he worked, he slept, and the cycle continued again and again until this body eventually gave up and he was temporarily allowed the quiet comfort of rest again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ascians are just “do it for them” meme gone tragic
> 
> anyway. I am not dead but uh, happy early valentine (?)  
cope for 5.2


	5. decline - ambiguous warrior of light, thancred, emet-selch drinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nighttime at the Crystarium had grown calmer compared to the initial clamor when the night returned, but the Wandering Stairs were ever lively with people.

“Relax my friend.”

Thancred’s voice was light—pleasant enough to focus on instead of the buzzing noise from the crowd. Nighttime at the Crystarium had grown calmer compared to the initial clamor when the night returned, but _the Wandering Stairs_ were ever lively with people. 

“I’ll try.” They said, a small smile on their lips, but the tension on their shoulders remained as they sat down awkwardly. Their table was closest to the railing, a bit out of the way and rather secluded – that somewhat eased their stance. 

Their little excursion marked another victory against the Light Warden, but one that came at a heavy price – the Warrior felt unwell, and it was only, because of Ryne’s help that they were able to continue pretending like they could carry on their duty against the last Warden.

Perhaps, faintly sensing his friend’s distress, Thancred made an offer for them to unwind with a drink and the Warrior agreed.

“How long has it been since we last sat down to drink and chat like this, my friend? No doubt since before the Bloody Banquet.” Thancred tried to make light chatter to fill the silence once he was back with their drinks.

“Yeah…” The Warrior gave a noncommittal hum. There were to bottles of some type of ale, local production no doubt. They grabbed one, without even bothering with a cup and took a generous chug - the alcohol eased their nerves somewhat, without clouding their thoughts too much.

Thancred chuckled as he poured in his own cup and took a sip as well.

“There is—” Thancred stopped talking and frowned. The Warrior blinked and then turned their head back—only to see _Emet-Selch_ looking around the tavern.

The Ascian eventually saw them and a lazy smile settled on Emet-Selch’s lips as he took determined steps towards their table.

“Good evening, friends.” He announced once he drew near. The Warrior watched him with muted surprise, while Thancred looked daggers at the Ascian.

“It _was_ a good evening.” Thancred said curtly and Emet-Selch shrugged, smile not leaving his lips.

“Oh come now. I am merely trying to enjoy an evening with my fellows’ company.” The Ascian looked down towards the Warrior and once he saw them slowly take a sip from their bottle, Emet-Selch’s eyes narrowed and he frowned. “Has your dear mother not taught you any manners? Use a cup for Pete’s sake.”

The Warrior couldn’t tell whether he meant their actual mother or Hydaelyn. They scooted a bit to the side, leaving more space for Emet-Selch to sit down. The Ascian sat down beside them, still giving them a disgusted look. Thancred rolled his eyes and took a big chug from his cup.

When he set it down, he was still glaring at Emet-Selch.

“What?” The Ascian said in mock surprise. “Can’t we enjoy each other’s company as friends?”

“We’re _not _friends.”

Emet-Selch picked up a spare cup—the Warrior’s intended, but left unused one, and poured some of the alcohol in it. He brought it to his face and upon sniffing it, he frowned. After a moment of hesitance, the Ascian took a generous sip and then grimaced.

“I haven’t had alcohol this cheap, since I was a common foot soldier in Garlemald.” He complained. “It’s _foul_.”

“Oh, I’m sorry then, Your Highness, but you will have to compromise with us _peasants_.” There was more venom in in the Hyur’s tone than the cheap liquor, Emet-Selch thought. The Ascian set his cup down on the table and drummed his fingers impatiently on the table, seemingly lost in thoughts. Thancred sighed deeply, while the Warrior took another sip from their bottle.

“Barman!” Thancred yelled and he raised his hand. “I’m going to need another bottle if I have to deal with him.”

“That won’t be necessary.” The Ascian said lowly. With a snap of his fingers a bottle, accompanied by three cups, materialized on the table. The Warrior gasped, while Thancred looked confused at it.

Emet-Selch picked up the bottle and calmly, despite Thancred’s glowing displeasure and the Warrior’s guarded look, poured the liquor in each cup – first for himself, then gave to the Warrior and finally, for Thancred.

“A toast gentleman!” He said with enthusiasm that starkly contrasted his fellows’ wariness.

“Do you honestly expect us to drink your—Hey!” The Warrior regarded their glass briefly before shrugging and gulping it all down. They grimaced at the intense taste, but offered their glass to Emet-Selch for a refill, whose brow rose and lip curved upwards in amused surprise.

“Quite a heavy drinker you are, dear hero.” The Ascian refilled it, albeit not as much, and offered it back to the Warrior. They shrugged.

“I recognize the brand. It’s from Hingashi—decent, but not worth the money.” Thancred’s eyes stared back at his friend with open confusion, while Emet-Selch rolled his eyes.

“You needn’t concern yourself with that.”

_Unlike you, I have the power of creation itself at my control. _

“Well…it’s better than what we were drinking previously.” The Warrior mumbled and gave Thancred a brief, sympathetic look. Thancred looked at them, betrayed.

“I knew I could trust you, _my friend_.” A satisfied smile settled on the Ascian’s face and he took a sip from his cup.

“Have you…gotten tipsy?” Thancred asked, concerned upon noticing the pale redness on the Warrior’s cheeks. The Hyur brought his own cup to his face and sniffed it. Once he found that there was no fast-acting poison, he took a careful sip. “This…concoction is rather strong.”

“Are you accusing me of foul play?” Emet-Selch immediately said, defensively. “I’m insulted.”

“It’s alright, Thancred.” The Warrior reassured him and Thancred leaned back into his seat and sighed.

“You know what’s best.” He said, tone restrained. “I don’t want to be pushy, but…I…”

“Oh, it’s alright.” They said. Feeling their tongue loosen due to the alcohol, they blurted out. “It’s not as bad as the Exarch. Ever since our return from Amh Araeng…”

“The Exarch?” Thancred’s eyes narrowed as he sat upright.

“The Exarch...Ah!” The Warrior looked away upon realizing they’d spoke their mind out. Emet-Selch quirked a brow. “I truly appreciate his hospitality…”

There was an unsaid _but_.

“You don’t trust him?” Thancred’s tone was low and careful. The Warrior didn’t answer and instead they diverted.

“How is Ryne?”

“Ryne…” Thancred’s posture relaxed and he looked a lot more content. “Ryne is well. Ever since our conversations, things have been good…I felt stupid at first.” He laughed as he confessed. “But I’m glad. I—I’m proud of her.”

“…” Emet-Selch took a slow sip from his drink again.

“If you brood any louder…” Thancred started, peaceful expression quickly shifting to one of deep displeasure.

“Oh, don’t mind me.” Emet-Selch waved his hand weakly. "I was merely hoping for a more inclusive conversation with my peers."

Thancred groaned and the Warrior made a thoughtful hum.

“When I first met Lahabrea, he sicced a hive of mutated, poisonous spiders on me.” They said and the Ascian’s flat expression changed into a wide grin.

“Ah, the dear old man!” Emet-Selch exclaimed, clearly amused by the story. “You know, his students used to be a bit, ah, averse to his approach initially, but they were quick to see the wisdom in his methods.” He recalled fondly and added. “He was a good teacher.”

“_Was_.” Thancred’s glare didn’t falter.

“Yes, was…” Emet-Selch’s voice turned quiet and his shoulders slumped as he sipped his drink, solemnly.

“I don’t want to remember him, he—” Thancred stopped and closed his eyes. Emet-Selch looked at him with mocking pity.

“Still upset over the past?” He said dismissively. “It looks like he took quite good care of you, considering you’re still here and…relatively healthy.”

His eyes narrowed at the Hyur – he could _see_ that there was some _abnormality_, but it certainly wasn’t because of Lahabrea. Perhaps those magical bullets that he kept forcing the girl to infuse with magic held the answer to that, but Emet-Selch couldn’t bring himself to care enough to investigate.

Thancred’s grip on his cup tightened and his nostrils flared in anger.

“Calm down, boy.” The Ascian cooed. “I’m sure that pitiful husk you call a body could withstand hosting the soul of someone who wasn’t sundered.”

The Warrior poured themselves another glass.

“Soulless…” They mumbled quietly. “Didn’t Elidibus also possess a corpse? Zenos…he…” Their thoughts were a mess and felt like they were talking incoherently upon recollecting _that_ entire situation. The fear, the fury—but also the _pity_.

“Sympathy?” Emet-Selch’s lips quirked up into a sardonic smile. “The body was vacant.”

“Regardless, he should have been allowed to rest in peace.” The Warrior argued, tone curt. Emet-Selch’s brow rose and he regarded the Warrior with a studying look.

“This conversation is unsalvageable.” Thancred huffed and he stood up. “All of the alcohol in Ul’dah wouldn’t be able to wash away the foul taste this left.”

“I have no idea how you’ve made it thus far, when your skin is this thin.” Emet-Selch said coldly.

“You…” Thancred’s voice was low and threatening. He looked like he was ready to swing.

“Thancred, just leave him be. He’s trying to provoke you.”

_Hades, just leave him be. He’s trying to provoke you. _The sound of movement and wood scrapping against wood brought Emet-Selch back from his awkward déjà vu and the Ascian blinked. He looked up the duo with mild confusion.

“Let’s just go.” The Warrior was quick to react – they stood up and put a hand on Thancred’s shoulder, attempting to defuse the situation.

“Yeah…you’re right.” Thancred nodded. “It isn’t worth it.”

“Oh yes, yes, don’t concern yourself with me.” Emet-Selch said, his tone bordering on acerbic. “I’m used to drinking my sorrows alone.”

“Goodnight…Emet-Selch.” The Warrior gave one final glance towards the Ascian, before turning their back to him and followed Thancred towards _the Pendants_.

Emet-Selch remained alone and in mournful silence at the table for a little while longer. He sipped on his last drink and watching the many _bleak, ugly lights_ swarming like flies all over the Crystarium.

The sight was depressing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, a lot of things have changed since I last posted, I hope everyone is well
> 
> this one had been sitting in my head for a while and a different draft was causing me some problems so just decided to finish this one, I hope you enjoy! I kind of tried to give more weight to the idea that emet tries to chill with wol and thancred, but he just felt more excluded in the end 
> 
> anyway, I had been busy, but stay tuned for more! can't wait for 5.3  
gods help us with that one, I am excited, but also terrified,,


	6. analogue soul - elidibus and azem: stargazing + emet/azem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big thanks to the dear anika ( twitter: @dydroit/ao3: FreeTheSoul ) who helped with prof-reading and editing!
> 
> contains spoilers for patch 5.3

It had been raining heavily the past few days.

A cool breeze came from the window. His work office — or, more like, his study — consisted of many tall bookcases, a chair far too big for him, and a desk far too wide for him. To hold his title, Elidibus, was a duty he had accepted with earnest devotion and, to him, this gave him enough space to grow into his new role.

He didn’t mind staying up late in his office to work. It wasn’t just to fulfill his obligations – there were creations to review, policies to study, and many other things that Elidibus had to do, and he threw himself into it with a zealousness that would make his coworkers concerned—

His focus waned when he felt the faint breeze of an opened door against him and heard a knock on the door.

“I hope you wouldn’t mind a visit.”

Elidibus turned his head back and over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of a familiar dark mask.

“Azem.”

His colleague nodded in acknowledgement. They were standing by the door with a calm smile on their face.

“Good evening, Elidibus,” they said. “Most have already returned to their homes— and yet here you are.”

“I had more work to do than expected,” he confessed. It would be a lie to say that his post wasn’t daunting at first, but it was not something he had been unaware of when he chose to accept the office. Regardless, he never thought about shirking the duty – to Elidibus, it was a challenge to prevail. “But never mind that, busy as you are… why are you here?”

“Oh, me?” Azem closed the door behind them and drew closer. “Igeyorhm told me that you were still in your office, so I decided to drop by.”

“…I see,” Elidibus said, tone a bit bashful. He had intended to make it appear as if he left earlier to avoid worrying his colleagues, but it seems like few things would escape Igeyorhm. Perhaps it was time to finish up his report and—

Azem loomed somewhere behind his chair and Elidibus’ hand stilled. They were _very_ curious – Azem peeked over his shoulder to see what he was mulling over and Elidibus froze when he heard a thoughtful hum.

“This concept is...” Azem started and Elidibus nodded slowly as they examined his work. “...For finding our way back to Amaurot should we find ourselves lost in foreign lands? A trail between cities would surely improve the communication between neighboring cities, especially in times of need.”

“It is a… pet project. Something I’ve been working on in my spare time.” He tilted his head and quickly added, “I was thinking about asking you for guidance, but it is not a task that demanded your immediate attention.”

“Oh. It would be a pleasure.” The grin underneath their mask widened, but Elidibus could not see it clearly – positioned as they were above his head while he was hunched over his desk. Belatedly sensing the breach of personal space due to their close proximity, Azem quickly apologized and took a step back. Elidibus straightened his back and turned back to face them proper, only to be met with a thoughtful expression on their face.

“What’s the matter?” Elidibus instantly. A moment of silence passed before they answered, tone relaxed.

“Come with me, there is something I wanted to show you.”

…

_ For inspiration, _they had said. It seemed like a good enough excuse, Elidibus thought, but when Azem led him to one of the rooftop garden patios, he found himself having second thoughts about agreeing to all of this. The night air was chilly and he crossed his arms for warmth.

“Elidibus, the Serious,” they cooed back at his reluctance as they stepped towards the manicured lawn. A large, thick blanket materialized in their hands and they spread it over the dewy grass. Azem sat down with a huff and gestured for Elidibus to join them by tapping the free space next to them. Elidibus hesitated for a moment longer before ultimately relenting and lying down next to them. 

This high up, even the tallest of spires and the gentle illumination of Amaurot barely obscured the stars in the clear night sky above their heads. The moon’s faint glow was the most prominent figure in the scene. It was a majestic sight— and Elidibus only now realized that he’d barely ever stopped himself to just look and _marvel _at the beauty of the stars. He was embarrassed to admit that he wasn’t as knowledgeable about the star map as he would’ve wanted.

Perhaps sensing his mental wanderings and musings, Azem started speaking.

“It might take a few moments for your eyes to adapt. This isn’t like reading aether.” Surely enough, after a few moments of peaceful silence, Elidibus’ eyes adapted to the dark enough to see familiar patterns of stars.

_ The Martyr. The Transcendent. The Arbiter…_

“I don’t see everyone.” He commented.

“Depending on the time and place, certain ones shine brighter than the others,” they answered and added with a chuckle. “Think of it like our roles in the Convocation.”

Elidibus said nothing and continued searching for more. It had been only a few minutes and Elidibus already felt like the experience refreshed his mind like nothing else. It made him feel good and relaxed, his various worries suddenly so trivial and distant. 

Usually, whenever he looked up to the sky it felt cold and distant, but now, lying next to Azem and listening to their voice, the experience was much more fulfilling.

“Look over there.” They directed with their hand. “You can faintly see the glow of the Protector’s.” 

“Ah…” He strained his eyes and indeed saw that particular cluster of stars twinkling faintly in the distance.

“The patterns in the sky have been a universal language across many cultures and ages.” Azem elaborated after another long, peaceful pause. “Whenever I feel lost or directionless, looking towards the skies, I have always found my purpose—”

Both of them heard the soft sound of rustling grass as someone approached.

“…What are you doing?” Emet-Selch peered down Azem’s face, a deep frown on his own. “Who do you expect to take care of the paperwork from your last excursion?”

“Ah.” They immediately sat up. “It appears that my next stop decided to come to me.”

Emet-Selch’s frown deepened upon their deduction, while Elidibus sat up as well. Emet-Selch towered over them, arms folded and looking quite intimidating, but it seems like whatever displeasure he felt was directed only towards Azem. Distantly, thunder roared— seemingly materialized from Emet-Selch’s frustration itself at having to be burdened with Azem’s paperwork.

“Actually, I was hoping that you could show me the new concepts created while I was away.” They quickly defended themselves, which seemed to ease Emet-Selch’s severe expression. Somewhat.

“You can quite easily review the process with the Chief, but instead you decide to pester me.” Emet-Selch let out an exasperated sigh and Elidibus suspected that he was now being overly dramatic – this familiarity was a testament to the bond shared between the two of them. “You’re hopeless.”

“Perhaps so,” they answered back with a grin.

Emet-Selch turned to scrutinize Elidibus as well, but remained silent for a few tense moments until Elidibus felt the sensation of droplets hitting the top of his hood.

“It’s starting to rain again,” Elidibus said.

With an unceremonious snap of his fingers, a curious-looking device materialized in Emet-Selch’s hands. He fiddled with it briefly until the canopy attached to the beam unfolded, supported by thin metal ribs and thus creating a portable cover. He raised it above his head and pulled Azem closer as the rain picked up the pace. “Let’s go, lest we get soaked to our bones.”

“What is that?” they asked.

Elidibus copied the concept to create his own cover – he had studied the original for himself and thus his copy proved sturdier against the blowing winds compared to Emet-Selch’s, who had only heard of it.

“A hand-held portable device used for cover... is the name they’ve settled on. It’s a new concept developed by the Words of Halmarut, so that they may continue their work around the botanical gardens even while conjuring rains to water the plants, but it can be used in a broader sense—Do not look at me so! By your eager expression, I can tell you wish to visit there later.”

“Actually, an eastern city I visited had a similar concept and they called it a_ parasol_.”

“Hm. I suppose that is a shorter name compared to… that.” Emet-Selch rubbed his chin in thought and glanced towards Elidibus. “What do you say, Elidibus?”

“I agree, perhaps for once we may follow our neighbor’s example.” He answered. “Though I believe Lahabrea advised they name it an_ umbrella_.”

“Well, with such a majority, I am certain we can take care of the rest of the formalities soon, so that the citizens of Amaurot may also enjoy the day outside, despite the rain.” Emet-Selch declared and Azem tugged at his sleeve.

“I still want that walk around—”

“Alright, alright.” Emet-Selch agreed and then added. “But after you finish your paperwork. And…” He glanced towards Elidibus now. “Should you wish to join us, then you may, but only under the condition that you return home to rest.”

Piqued by the offer, Elidibus agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: wait, what are constellations---uhh,
> 
> also hi, 5.3 brought me profound agony over my dear boy and while working on a bigger eli-centric piece, I decided to do this,  
you can watch me scream about ascians and spam pics of my ff14 chars on twitter: @brimibox


	7. darkness - kinda emet/wol

_“You seek the Dark, too?”_

…

Nights at the Crystarium had grown peaceful. Quiet almost, at least compared to the initial clamor when the night returned for the first time in a hundred years thanks to the Warrior of Darkness.

However, most nights for said Warrior were not peaceful. Emet-Selch watched them with muted interests. He did not intend, nor was he desperate enough to spy on them in their sleep, but their nightmare was so loud, that idle curiosity got the better of him.

The Warrior of Light—_Darkness_ now, was moaning in pain and thrashing weakly against nonexistent constraints in their sleep. Placing a bare hand on their warm forehead, Emet-Selch could faintly feel their distress – its cause was more psychological, than physical. Vague ideas of past sorrows, bitter exile and a haunting sense of duty to protect and server. Failures. Regrets. Ruin. Thoughts and anxieties that Emet-Selch himself was intimately familiar with, flashed like loud thunder, before sinking into oblivion and leaving the Warrior oblivious, confused and afraid.

Were these worries always there, or were they new? Regardless, it did not move him, for Emet-Selch had grown quite apathetic to Sundered life and their woes, so he could only offer pity and disgust.

Still, perhaps gripped by his own, almost childlike hope and curiosity, Emet-Selch dug deeper to find its source. The Warrior shifted slightly and for a moment, Emet-Selch wondered whether they had awakened, but instead their consciousness sank back into nothingness. Soft and warm, almost like the smile of a loved one.

_Ah, I see. _Memories. Recollections of fallen comrades and fallen foes, an endless battlefield. To wander and to fight, just like—

He blinked. Just faintly, for the briefest of moments, Emet-Selch could see the static, shattered outline of a familiar, red glyph flash over their face, but Emet-Selch could have sworn it was just his own delusions.

…

They were due to depart to Amh Araeng the following day. During their short meeting at the Pendants to discuss the travel arrangements, Thancred had made it a point to ignore, yet make his displeasure about Emet-Selch’s presence known. The Ascian only regarded him with dull apathy – he had long lost the interest to even try to banter and quip back at him.

Sharing the dull mood was the Warrior as well, who had opted to sit next to the him on the small sofa as a sort of wall between the two men. Although they also looked like they wanted to be anywhere else, but here. Occasionally their younger companion, Alphinaud regarded the Warrior with a sympathetic smile.

“Well, if there is naught else to add, I propose we end this.”

The meeting was curt and the Warrior remained silently sulking in their spot, until it was just them and the Ascian left.

“Had a bad sleep?” He gets a groggy stare from them in response and Emet-Selch can’t help but smile smugly. They don't even answer him and just rub their eyes. He continues probing regardless. “Nightmares, perhaps?”

“Yes.” They finally say. A brief, flat answer and Emet-Selch rolls his eyes. In that regard, few things changed from _their original_.

_But, at least back then Hythlodaeus was always there to ease the tension crinkling in the air. _Despite himself, Emet-Selch smiled fondly at the recollection, while the Warrior sighed deeply and leaned back into their seat. Perhaps, it was petty sentimentality that prompted him to offer.

“Why not lie down a bit, Hero?” The way he drags out the way he calls them could have been taken as sardonic, but the Warrior seemed too exhausted to even be upset about it with their usual chilly silence. They frown in answer, but before they could even reject him, Emet-Selch speaks again. “Slacking on the post will only pave the way to failure.”

Their brows furrow in consideration and there was only silence for a few long moments. _If I had wanted to kill you, I would have done so long ago_, thinks Emet-Selch at their reluctance, but eventually they hum in agreement.

“Alright.”

Emet-Selch pats his lap in offer for them to lie down and the Warrior squints at him in confusion.

“What? I only wish the best for you and your fellows,” He gets a haunted glare in answer and Emet-Selch scoffs. “Lie down, Hero. Rest a bit. Relax.”

Ultimately they relent and lie their head on his lap. Their pose is stiff and uneasy for a long while even after they close their eyes, but eventually exhaustion win them over and their body grows slack. Their breath evens out and their nerves relax into something almost peaceful.

_Still, so trusting._

Emet-Selch watches them for a while, but this time he does not pry into their dreams again – darkness offered a comfort he was very familiar with, however their form of respite was not darkness, but oblivion. Nothingness. _Futility_—There was something almost tragic about the monster fate twisted the Warrior to be. _Fight. Recover. Fight_. An endless symphony of violence and death, carved by an earnest desire to protect.

Yet, they continued pushing forward, despite all odds against them. Ignorantly, arrogantly, just like—

_What is left when everything around us turns to ash? What direction can you turn to? Where else can you go, besides forwards?_ Azem once asked him and Emet-Selch could not give an answer back then, nor could he do it now, because whenever he closed his own eyelids, he could see nothing but blackness, with the occasional painfully familiar, sickly glow flickering nearby, before it died.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "darkness has finally ebbed into nothingness. a bright light now cleanses the land."
> 
> so, something a bit Brief while trying to flex my last functioning braincells, kinda comparing and contrasting the whole "personal DARKNESS" between two peoples (and the idea of how its "MY darkness, not yours. get your OWN darkness" when it comes to sympathy)  
\+ was emet-selch so fucking depressed he was seeing things or was the wol astral-projecting so hard they were manifesting shit (again)? who knows!
> 
> continues yelling DOOR STUCK! DOOR STUCK! during e9s tiles, I swear these ranged ppl nowadays are gonna give me a stroke with the refreshes

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading, I deeply appreciate your feedback!


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